


Out of My Skin

by Shorm (Bdoing), Vinnocent



Series: Humanity Is Watching [5]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Firefly
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Shorm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Hey, remember when I said there wouldn't be porn in this series? I lied. Sorry, but the idea happened, and it was too good to ignore. Chapter 4 will be a TL;DR version for people who don't wanna read porn.)</p><p>Marco employs the aid of an old friend to help him feel like himself again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shorm for translating the Chinese phrases, and to Alba for translating Spanish phrases.

When he saw the wave alert, Marco nearly jumped. He hurried over to the Cortex access point, heart thudding in his chest, and smoothed his hair out of his face with one hand before answering. He pressed the answer button, and the video blinked on, showing Inara Serra smiling back at him. “Marco,” she said pleasantly. “It’s been so long since Sihnon. I’d have never expected to see you out this way.”

He smiled back, trying to show confidence he wasn’t particularly feeling at the moment. “Well, you’re not the only one wanted to see the worlds,” he said.

“Oh, you took to that far before me,” she reminded him. “Though I recall you claiming to have been dragged into it against your will.”

Marco shrugged. “Things change, and people change,” he said noncommittally. “And things change people…”

“Does that explain the rumors?” she asked with a coy smile to show that she was merely teasing, though he knew she wasn’t really. She was measuring the worth of him, and she had a right to do so, given the situation.

Marco smiled like a serpent, almost a sneer. The sort of sneer that usually came accompanied with a swagger. “I’m afraid rumors of my thievery have been greatly exaggerated,” he teased back. “I merely happen to have the bad luck of occasionally finding myself coinciding with the timings of criminals.”

She didn’t reply immediately. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took a brief moment to weigh his words. He relished that moment as a small victory. Conversation between companions was always something of a game of wits. Finally, she turned to the subject at hand. “As much as I do miss you and relish the opportunity to make acquaintance once again… there are other ways to contact me than through the client registry,” she said.

Marco’s gaze slid slightly aside, though there really wasn’t a lot of point in avoiding eye contact with a computer. “Yeah…” he said. “About that…”

“So your finger didn’t slip, then?” she teased, trying to assuage his nerves. He appreciated the effort and, once more, he made eye contact with the camera.

“No,” he admitted. “No, if you’re open to it… Which I more than understand why you wouldn’t be… I would like to come to you as a client.”

Inara nodded. “May I inquire as to your reasoning?” she asked. “I doubt this is about sex.”

Marco laughed despite himself. “No. No, it’s not about sex.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “I just… Find the guises of this work piling up. And find myself too talented and too comfortable with them to take them off even in privacy. I need someone with the ability to see who I really am to help bring me out of my skin, just for a moment. To remind _me_ who I am,” he explained. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, checking the registry occasionally. When I saw that you were near… I recalled our time together at Madrassa, and I thought that you might have not only that skill I sought, but the amicable relationship with me that would be necessary of one companion hiring another.”

Inara nodded again, listening patiently. “We all have our needs on occasion. I’m happy to have the ability to provide what you need,” she assured him. “This sort of thing takes time, however. Would you have the ability to contract for a day? Say, starting tomorrow morning?”

Marco nodded. “I do have the time,” he confirmed.

“Then I’ll be sending you the standard contract and invoice,” she said. She smiled gently. “I look forward to seeing you, Marco.”

“I, too,” he told her, and she reached forward and turned off the video. He found himself releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. His stomach knotted viciously, threatening to make him sick. He knew what he needed, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was ready to receive it.

\-- --

Marco checked his reflection again. He wasn’t sure when or if she would get him naked, but even if it happened right away, it wouldn’t do to start off on an ugly foot.

There was a pleasant chime heard as Inara pressed the door panel to let him know of her arrival. He quickly covered the mirror then went to the door. He opened it with a press, and she stepped inside, looking around. “This is certainly familiar,” she observed mildly.

“We could do this at your rooms,” he reminded her.

“I know,” she said. He noticed that she was carrying a small handbag, but he wasn’t sure what for. “For what you’re asking, I deemed it important to meet where you are most comfortable.” She turned to him. “You _are_ comfortable here?”

Marco smirked, shut the door back, and locked it. “Cozy,” he assured her.

“Is that a lock?” Inara asked. “My shuttle didn’t have a lock. I’m so jealous right now.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “How did you do your business without a door lock?” he asked.

Inara rolled her eyes. “Not well,” she said, and he laughed. “I assume you have your own tea set?” she asked.

“As any civilized person would,” he said with a wink. He gestured to the small table in the rear of the shuttle, to show that it was already set out. He then stepped forward and took her arm gently, guiding her to the table. He let her kneel first, then he smoothed his trousers and knelt opposite her. She placed the handbag in the far corner, then glanced across at him. She raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked.

“It is rare that my clients sit in the formal feminine style,” she said. “I know you’re a companion, but… I’m curious, were you trained to sit like a woman?”

Marco cleared his throat and shifted to the side, pulling his legs around in front of him. “My training was different from yours,” he admitted. “A woman is rarely asked to be anything else, but my roles can vary a great deal, so long as I’m willing to take them. To be honest, the majority of my clients expect from me what is seen as a feminine role, and I’ve grown comfortable in that position. They are not always so… compliant with others as they are with those of feminine gender.”

Inara nodded and poured the water of the tea in the cups. “Sit however you like,” she said. “I was merely curious.”

“Are you kidding? I’m grateful for the opportunity to relax a bit,” he laughed.

She laughed with him. It was a gentle, musical sound, as they had been made to practice again and again until it was the only laugh they could make. “I do know what you mean, though,” she said. “So many think so little of womanhood that they assume we naturally belong in the roles asked of us, forgetting that we are trained manipulators merely acting a part. It’s not hard for me to imagine that they’re more distrusting of someone they see as masculine.” She strained the tea and served it to him.

He took it from her carefully. “Well, it should be noted that, like everyone else, I choose my clients,” he said. “It’s no less my decision than it is theirs. As I said, it’s where I’m comfortable, usually. Though it does vary; I like to play the range of options.”

Inara hummed to herself thoughtfully, taking a sip of her tea. “So comfortable, perhaps, that it becomes difficult to separate yourself from these identities?” she asked.

Marco’s eyes slid aside. “Perhaps,” he said. “I cannot put my finger on the fault of it. Perhaps it is that. Perhaps it is many factors. Perhaps it is merely something that would have happened no matter what.”

Inara nodded. “Well, the first thing to establish is that a day is not enough to bring about any lasting change. However, I do think I can provide you some momentary relief.”

Marco smirked, but his stomach was starting to churn. “I wouldn’t know what to do without it,” he joked.

Inara pointedly ignored this and continued, “The most obvious obstruction to your identity is your pride, as anyone would expect to find in a trained companion,” she said. “So that is the first thing that I will take from you.”

Marco swallowed. “The first?” he repeated.

She looked across the table at him with a gaze like a knife. “The other aspect which stands between you and yourself is your shame. This is more unique and personal, and it will require more work to dismantle. It is possible that you will feel the need to call a halt, which you are welcome to do at any time,” she informed him. “I will be taking charge of this session, but your consent is paramount. You must never lose sight of that.”

Marco swallowed again and nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” he said mildly.

To his surprise, Inara put her cup and saucer down on the table, shifted her weight to the side to pull her legs in front of her, and leaned back on her hands. “Then take that fucking nose ring out,” she said coldly.

Marco’s hesitation was only brief. He put his cup and saucer down as well, then awkwardly manipulated the small gold ring in his left nostril until he had it removed. He placed it on the table.

“Now the earrings,” she instructed, and he began to remove the multiple piercings and cuffs on his left ear. Her eyes followed his every movement with cool indifference, and he found himself slightly less certain of his actions. He knew from his own experience what the point of this was, but it was another thing to be on the receiving end. Knowing what she was doing did not make the act entirely ineffective.

“The necklaces,” she ordered, and Marco reached behind himself to undo a clasp. Off came the first necklace, which he laid out neatly on the table. Then, the second one. The the third. He was starting to wonder if wearing his typical amount of jewelry had been a poor idea or a wonderful one.

“The bracelets.” That was easier. Marco pulled those off in one motion for each wrist and set them in two stacks on the table.

“The rings.” Again, he removed them easily and set them out on the table.

“The shirt,” she said. Marco’s hand went to his collar, and he began to unbutton his shirt, working his way down the row until he had to sit up a bit to pull the tails out of his trousers. He unbuttoned the cuffs, then pulled off the shirt, folded it easily and quickly, and set it aside.

“Shoes and socks,” she said, and he easily removed those to set aside as well. Or, he almost did. He paused part way in removing the first sock and glanced up at her again. “Go on,” she instructed. He swallowed nervously and pulled the socks off, tucking them into the shoes and placing them aside.

“Stand,” she instructed, and he did, intensely aware of her scrutiny. “The belts.” He unclasped the decorative metal belt and placed it with the jewelry on the table. He then removed a hand-tooled leather belt decorated with gold embossing and studs, coiled it in his hand, and set it with his shoes.

“Trousers.” He unbuttoned his fly and pulled his pants down over his hips. Like with the socks, he paused momentarily when he reached his knees. He didn’t bother checking her expression; he knew what he’d find. His heart was pounding in his chest. This was ridiculous; he’d stood naked before plenty of people since the war. But, of course, none of them had been _scrutinizing_ him. He swallowed again and forced himself to remove his pants all the way, fold them neatly, and set them with the shirt.

Marco stood there, naked and waiting, with his hands clasped obediently behind him. But she said nothing more, merely continuing to watch him with what had become a bored expression. He breathed deeply and wrung his hands together behind him. God, when had she learned to do this? Sure, each part was a lesson they’d been taught in school, but to string them together like this? He wondered how the plan had come together for her. Had she done this before? For a client? For another companion? Had it simply been a fantasy that she’d been waiting for the opportunity to act? Had she plotted it out last night, the way they often did for clients? Was she simply that much of a natural at taking people apart at the seams by doing seemingly nothing at all?

Finally, Inara rose to her feet. Slowly, she walked around him, eyes slowly combing up and down over his form, taking in every detail. Somehow that was so much worse.

She circled him a second time. The only difference on the second time was that she appeared even more bored and she allowed him to see her sigh heavily.

On the third turn, she grabbed his jaw roughly to drag him forward awkwardly, making him scramble to stay on his feet. She inspected his facial features carefully, shoving him back again when she was done, and, again, he barely avoided tripping. As she continued on her circular path around him, she grabbed his arm and pulled it aside, again forcing him to break his stance into an awkward position. She held it there for a moment, inspecting his form with his arm out of the way, as though it made that much difference. She then bent the arm to inspect his hand and his nails. There was a slight disapproving twinge in her upper lip, and he fought the urge to pull his hand back to look for himself.

She dropped the hand and continued on. Behind him, she shoved his head forward roughly, her fingers raking his hair backward and mussing it in the process as she inspected the arch of his neck, the line of his spine, and he realized that she was evaluating him like an animal. An angry growl burned in his chest, but he forced himself to swallow it. It was an act. He knew that. He’d objectified submissive clients before. It wasn’t a big deal. In fact, it was exactly what he had asked her for.

She released his head and watched him for a moment before running her thumbs along the edges of his shoulder blades. He arched into her touch. “Skinny,” she said, killing his desire in a simple word. Just _skinny_. Neither approving nor disapproving, but a simple state of fact. Like she was noting his species.

She pushed on his back, forcing him to bend slightly and thus forcing him to spread his legs a little more. She crouched behind him, running her hands methodically over his ass and thighs without an iota of seduction. An almost medical level of indifference. Except she was inspecting him far more closely than any doctor ever had, and his unease was making his breath come ragged.

Finally, she stood and moved on, grabbing his other arm in the same manner as the first one. First, she pulled it aside to look him over, then she inspected his hand. That time, she found some unnamed flaw in his wrist, and he felt the growl growing again.

When she arrived in front of him again, she grabbed his thigh and forced his stance to spread wider. She then grabbed his chin again and forced it back, again inspecting the arch of his neck. She ran her thumbs over his collar bone. She trailed her fingers over his chest as she scrutinized it closely. Then, she crouched before him, and he inhaled sharply.

She handled his dick with the same methodical, indifference, handling just rough enough to keep him from getting any enjoyment out of it. She was no kinder to his balls. He rolled his eyes and exhaled again, only to be surprised when she grabbed his hips and shoved him hard enough to cause him to fall against the wall. As she stood again, her gaze was piercing and predatory. Just as he was righting himself again, she shoved his shoulders back into the wall, pinning him there. He began breathing harder again.

She leaned in close to his neck, and he could feel her breath on his ear, and he shivered beneath her. Her lips just barely grazed the lobe of his ear, the nook of his neck, the line of his jaw, and he whimpered, wanting more. He was getting dizzy and losing himself. And then she was in front of him again, and he leaned forward despite himself.

She moved away before he could kiss her, snorting derisively as though it was idiotic for him to presume he could have ever kissed her. She moved away to go sit on his bed, and that brewing growl finally spewed forth. “Do you want me or not?” he demanded. She hadn’t even turned yet when he realized what he’d said.

He started laughing. “Wow,” he said, rolling his eyes upward. “I didn’t know I’d be that easy.” He looked at her again with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for breaking character.”

“You’re supposed to break character,” she reminded him, still keeping her tone carefully even and her face unreadable. “You’re supposed to _lose_ your character.”

“True,” he admitted, and she sat on the edge of his bed and hooked a finger toward him. Obligingly, he approached, and he let her guide him down onto the bed. She crouched over him and, again with that damned unreadable face, she ran her fingers over his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, his chest. Again, she was evaluating him. She kept evaluating until he lost interest and began to relax.

Then, Inara stood from the bed and went back to the table. He watched her curiously as she took her handbag again and showed it to him. “Do you remember what I said I was going to do?” she asked.

Marco nodded. “You were going to take my pride, and then you were going to take my shame,” he said.

She nodded in confirmation. She reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a ring box. She placed it on the table, then pulled the top off, revealing one large, plump, brightly colored, red and yellow cherry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, for the delay! My computer was giving me trouble! (>.<) Instead, you get this chapter on a Sunday morning. So, I guess you can read your porn after church. :P

Marco tensed suspiciously. “Inara…?” he said.

She stood and made her way back to the bed. “Do you know what your shame is, Marco?” she asked calmly, almost conversationally.

He eyed that cherry warily. “It’s a rule…” he chirped meekly.

She sat on the edge of the bed. “I never liked that rule,” she told him. “At the very least, the manner in which it’s learned and enforced could be handled more tactfully. You’re not the first one to take it too far. You’ve learned to associate food with shame and vulgarity, and eating in public has become as horrifying for you to conceive as defecating in public might be.”

Inara noticed that Marco was already blushing and moving slightly away from her. She continued, patiently, “I have brought such a small and tempting item to make the act easier. I’ve set it out far before attempting to coerce the action from you to allow you time to try to accommodate the idea of the act. I do understand how deeply it unsettles you. I remind you again that you can halt this at any point.”

Marco eyed her warily. “You’re not going to make me eat it now?” he asked.

Inara shook her head. “First, I’m going to address your other shame,” she said, and she touched his calf. It was the first time she’d touched him below the knee, and he jerked back instinctively. The prosthetics were state of the art. They blended almost seamlessly with his actual skin. They matched his body temperature. Not only did they connect to neural ports implanted in the end of his “stumps,” allowing them to follow his command exactly as his own feet would, but they also had their own self-contained system, reacting to external stimuli as his own might. There was so little difference that all but two of his clients had gone without noticing. But the Guild knew. He imagined it was whispered between various companions as a warning story. Of course, at that moment, there were still "scars" in the silicone skin where the Reaver damage had been patched up.

She watched him carefully. “Again, I remind you that you can halt this at any point,” she said quietly.

Marco swallowed. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Take them off,” she said.

Marco collapsed back against the bed, breathing heavily. Inara said nothing, watching him carefully. Finally, he nodded, sat up again, and ran his hands down his calves until he found the hidden buttons just above the heels. He pressed them and both prostheses sprang open, the calves and shins splitting apart from each other, revealing the robotics inside and allowing him to disconnect.

Inara smiled, amused. “The achilles tendon?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Yeah, someone was feeling clever, I guess,” he said. He took a deep breath to try to steady his nerves, then moved his fingers to the end of his right stump, carefully pulling out the four wires that connected to the neural ports. He handed the leg to Inara. He then did the same for his left leg.

While she put the prostheses aside next to the bed, he laid back, closed his eyes, and took carefully measured breaths, trying relieve some of the tension that was building in his stomach and his spine and his brain. He felt the bed move with the weight of her. And then, she was over him. And then, she was kissing him.

He was breathing her. He became steady because she was steady. She pulled his hand over her breast, and his heart began to slow again, to beat in time with her own. Eventually, he stopped kissing, and she pulled back to look at him. “What?” she asked.

“Uh…” he struggled, trying to pull his thoughts into words. “I’m not sure what you have planned,” he admitted, “but, um, there’s… the neural ports… There’s these, uh, rubber fittings to keep the ports clean, if needed. They’re a pain in the ass to clean out.”

She considered this for a moment, then shrugged, saying, “Can’t hurt, I suppose. Where are they?”

He pointed. “That cabinet there,” he said, and she got up from the bed again. She crouched in front of the cabinet door, then pulled out a small, clear plastic box holding several, tiny, black rubber plugs. She held it up, and he nodded. She moved back to the end of the bed. When she took hold of his left knee, he arched to face away from her, draping an arm over his eyes. He was far more sensitive about it than she’d initially estimated. She would have to step carefully.

As she pushed the rubber plugs into the metal ports, she asked, “How often do you take your legs off?”

“This is how you take my mind off it?” he bit back.

“Getting your mind off it serves little purpose,” she explained. “You can continue forward or you can halt, but those are your only two options.”

Marco was silent for a long moment. She moved on to his right leg. Finally, he said, “I take them off to bathe. They’re supposed to be watertight, but as expensive as they are, I’m not taking risks. I take them off for maintenance check-ups or when a doctor wants to check the stumps or ports. Other than that… Uh, thrice when I was drunk. Once someone holding me captive took one off. Oh, and for that one time I had to fix _harpoon_ damage.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Someone holding you captive?”

“Yeah, it’s a great way to immobilize someone, actually,” he teased, pulling his arm away but still not looking at her or the end of the bed. “You should try it next time you hold up a bǒzi.”

“You think that’s something I’m likely to do?” she teased back.

“Hey, I don’t judge.”

Finished, she put his leg down again and set the plastic box aside. “That isn’t what I was asking about anyway,” she explained. “I was under the impression that most people slept without them, often relaxed without them.”

“They’re constructed not to irritate me,” he said. “It’s one of the many, _many_ benefits of having money. I can wear them as much as I like.”

Again, Inara hummed to herself thoughtfully. She pulled her legs up onto the bed and leaned back against the baseboard to watch him. “Do you want to move forward?” she asked.

Marco hesitated, then asked, “What’s forward?”

She leaned forward and traced her nails softly up his inner thighs, and he immediately gasped and arched, but the moment his legs left the surface of the bed, he made a choking noise, suddenly reminded of the absence of his lower legs. “Ssh, focus on me,” she whispered.

“I thought you weren’t trying to take my mind off it,” he murmured, throwing his arm over his face again as her nails raked across his hips.

“I doubt that would be possible,” she told him with a small hint of amusement. Her hands climbed higher, and she moved over him. He moved his arm to look up at her curiously.“The point is to keep you from shutting down. Yes, Marco, you don’t have lower legs right now. And that is unnerving. Especially when, as seems to be the case for you, you have not allowed yourself to come to terms with it. You’ve settled too much of your vanity on your body, and you aren’t coping with the change.”

She stroked the line of his jaw fondly. “You aren’t your legs, Marco,” she said. “And you are not the absence of your legs. You are not your prostheses, and they do not measure you. They are a tool to make life easier, and that is not a weakness. Is the farmer weak for employing the workhorse?”

“It’s not just that,” he mumbled through ragged breaths, unable to meet her eyes. “I… It’s not just that it’s… not pretty. It’s that I just… end. Suddenly. There’s me, and then there’s a bunch of not-me where more of me used to be. It’s the sound of bombs in my brain. It’s the fear that swells up again, being cagado de miedo that I’m about to die for no good reason. It’s knowing the exact expression my dad will make when they mail him my corpse.”

Inara sat up between his legs and watched him for a moment. Her fingers trailed up his outer thigh and pulled his knee toward her. He inhaled sharply, and she kissed the knee lightly. “This isn’t how you died, Marco,” she whispered. She trailed her fingers over the scars at the end of the leg. “This is how you lived.”

Marco said nothing in reply. He was, in fact, staring absently up at the ceiling. She knew he understood her words, but it would take far longer than a day for them to sink in. That was fine. They both knew she wasn’t here to fix him, and he wasn’t here to be fixed. He simply needed to be reminded who he was.

With an almost idle manner, she let her hands drift down again, taking him in hand. He gasped, and he would have bucked slightly except that he didn’t yet know how to do that without using his feet. He made another noise of frustration, but she shushed him with a brief kiss. Still, as she went on, it just continued in the same way. He wanted it. He wanted it badly, but the river of his thoughts kept halting stagnant on the subject of his legs, and he remained pliant in her hands.

She released him for the moment and moved over him again, straddling his waist. His breath was ragged with frustration and desire and suppressed panic, and he wasn’t looking at her. She arched over him and kissed his cheek. He reached up to touch her tentatively, his fingers grazing her thigh.

She sat up again and pull him up with her, and he curled against her chest. She held him that way for some time. He clung to her warmth and breathed in the smell of her. Eventually, he was steady again, and she pulled back to look him in the eye. He smiled meekly up at her. “I’m not sure this is going to work,” he said.

“As I told you, my goal isn’t to distract you,” she said. “My goal is to not have you stop abruptly. I think perhaps this…” She stroked his cock again pointedly. “... might actually be too easy for you to ignore. You are a companion, after all, and I suspected this might be the case.” She reached out and took his right hand in hers. “So let’s try a different point of focus,” she said. She pulled her skirt aside enough to easily pull his hand underneath, guiding it to her heat.

He didn’t take convincing. With his free arm, he held her against him and pressed his face into her neck as he began to slowly stroke her labia. She gasped and moved against him, and he sucked lightly at her neck. As he began to move more aggressively, so did she. When she brought her hips up or down, he was forced to use his legs to subtly adjust his posture. Occasionally she leaned to one side or the other. At first, he gave little halts, but it wasn’t as easy to ignore her needs as it was to ignore his own.

She moaned and arched as he plunged his fingers into her sopping center, and, of course, he had to adjust for that, too. She reached down between them and took him in hand again. He was definitely hardening at that point. He growled against her throat. She thrust her freehand into his hair, twisted, and pulled his head roughly back to lick a stripe up his neck. His growl turned to a helpless whimper. She gyrated roughly against him, and the fingers of his free hand were digging into her hip.

They were gasping together, grunting, moaning. Inara pulled her small shirt off, arched her head back, and pulled his lips to her breast, where he sucked and nipped at her nipple, raked his teeth along the underside of her breast. She pulled his hair tighter, and he made the most deliciously mixed cry of pain and pleasure. He thrust into her harder and harder, more and more rapidly, occasionally twisting or brushing his thumb over her clit. She raked her nails just lightly against the underside of his dick, producing an even more delightful strangled noise. She pulled his head back and kissed him deeply before arching back and kneading her breasts. He bowed against her and ground his thumb hard against her clit. She gripped his wrist tight, and she came with a moan, clenching briefly around his fingers.

She pulled his hand out of her and brought his fingers to her mouth, sucking off her juices and making him whine. With her free hand, she pulled a pillow behind her ass while he was distracted. She released his fingers and pulled him into another kiss, then pulling him down against her as she lay back against the bed, the pillow helping to prop up her pelvis slightly. “Fuck me,” she hissed in his ear.

Realizing that he was on top of her, Marco very nearly froze. Instead, he opted to prop himself up on his hands and stutter, “I, uh…” Which was a sort of progress, she supposed.

“You have everything you need,” she assured him with a playful smirk. She reached down to help guide his hips in line with hers. His breathing was nervous, and his arms were shaking slightly, but he hadn’t frozen again yet.

He moved awkwardly, trying to find the position it which he could most easily support himself. “Starting to regret slippery sheets,” he murmured, and she laughed, raising up on her elbows to kiss him briefly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Take your time.”

“Hey, there goes my pride again,” he joked. “You’re so good at this.” She rolled her eyes but was interrupted when he reached down to rub her labia again, making her abandon whatever she’d been about to say. Still nervous, he took hold of his cock and guided himself into her, and she arched with a gasp.

He moved in her awkwardly at first, then more rhythmically as he got used to bracing himself on his knees. He used his free hand to knead at her breast, teasing the nipple occasionally by pulling at it with two fingers. He sucked and licked at her collar, neck, and ear. She moaned and squirmed beneath him. She dug her fingers into the flesh of his ass and rolled her hips in time with his. He gasped against her throat, and she whispered into his ear how good and obedient he was, how much she adored him.

He grabbed her ass and pulled her hard against him as he briefly stiffened, and she thought she heard hints of a growl and smirked. When they were young and experimenting, he used to make the most horrid grunting growls when he got overly excited, and the memory made her giggle. He glanced up at her quizzically, and she shook her head. “Forget it,” she said. Then, more assertively, she said, “Eat me.”

Obediently, he moved downward, kissing along her abdomen. At least he had been doing so, until his knee slipped and he almost fell off the bed. Laughing, she helped pull him up again, and the two collapsed into giggles together on the bed.

“Maybe a break before more fucking,” Marco laughed. “Get some blood back up to brain.”

“‘To brain’?” Inara repeated.

“Shut up,” he snipped, and she laughed. “You still have your shoes on, by the way.”

“It’s part of the image; you know that,” she reminded him. “The more I wear, compared to the less you wear, the more I’m dominant over you.”

“Okay, _but_ ,” Marco countered. “I had to take off my legs.” Inara laughed again, and he pressed, “The least you could do is take off your shoes.”

Inara kept laughing. “Alright! Alright! Give me a second.”


	3. Chapter 3

Marco watched Inara as she got up and pulled her shoes off. She hesitated, considering, then decided to pull her skirt off as well. Unlike him, however, she got to keep her jewelry. Companions preferred to wear their wealth as much as possible; not only did it set you apart and show how much you were valued, but it could, in a pinch, buy you out of trouble. Of course, watching her at the end of the bed meant he was seeing more of himself, too.

He sighed and leaned back again. Soon, she settled in next to him, propped up on one arm and trailing a finger over his abdomen, frowning in concern but not saying anything. “You know,” he said, “it did help, but I’m afraid my mind’s not going to abandon the topic of my lacks anytime soon.”

“I told you,” Inara said, “I wasn’t trying to make you forget.”

Marco frowned. “You said you were going to take…”

“Your pride and your shame,” she said. “Marco, your pride is not being a companion. Your shame is not being an amputee. These are not values; they are states of being. They are simply what you are. Your pride and your shame are the masks and stigmas you associate with these things. You put on a costume and an attitude, and place all your worth in that, when _that_ isn’t you. You’re training is. Your experience is. You hide away the bits of you that you consider to be broken, but they aren’t. There is nothing wrong with your state. There can’t be. It is only a form.”

She stroked along his jaw, then pushed to direct him to look at her. “I have sex with you like this not to convince you that you are someone else, but to push aside the terrible thoughts you carry with you.” He looked uncertain, but she could see that he was finally starting to get the idea.

His fingers trailed across her skin, hesitant and uncertain, like they were worshiping her. “You didn’t learn that at Madrassa,” he said quietly.

Inara smiled sadly. “You’re not the only one whose state of being has changed,” she said simply. He watched her face for a moment but seemed to come to the realization that if she had wanted to talk about it just then, she would have. She pushed him over onto his side and moved to snuggle in against his back. She breathed measured breaths against his neck, and she felt him relax into her. “Tell me how it happened,” she said.

“The legs?” Marco shrugged. “I went to war.”

“So you enlisted, then woke up one day and they were gone?” she teased.

“Yes, exactly,” he said, laughing.

“I always wondered why you enlisted,” she admitted. “It honestly didn’t seem very like you.”

“It wasn’t,” he laughed. “The Alliance was my bread and butter. But… well, to be honest, there was a man.”

Inara gasped in genuine disbelief. “Ta made! You?”

Marco laughed quietly. “My childhood best friend,” he said. “That asshole joined up with the Independent Faction because of his _morals_ , of all things.”

“You had a childhood friend from the outer worlds?” she said.

Marco shook his head. “No, he was from Ariel City,” he said. “You remember when the kidnappings got really bad for a couple years, just before the war started?” Inara nodded, and Marco said, “Well, he was one of those. Got taken out to… God, I don’t remember which planet; I was already training by then. Somewhere on the Rim. Got a good look at what life was like there. Then, his parents hired mercenaries to bring him back, afraid the kidnappers would kill him if they were paid the ransom. But the mercenaries killed bystanders. When Jake told his parents, they didn’t see any reason to do anything about it. Nor did the cops. He never forgave them, but I think the real kicker was when he caught them joking about it to a senator at a dinner party. Two years later, he was fifteen. There were rumors of war brewing, and he bribed a trader to take him to the Independents.”

“They took him at fifteen?” Inara gasped, surprised.

Marco shrugged. “Well, he lied, and he was big for his age, but they were desperate, so I don’t think they were looking too close at anyone.”

“And you?” she asked.

Marco closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts, leaning back into her warmth. “I was nineteen. The war had been going well over three years. I did my best to avoid the whole thing, like most Companions, but, like I said, the Alliance brass was my bread and butter. I was on a carrier when I discovered that Jake was a corporal with the 64th Overlanders. At the time, they, the 57th, the 40th, and the, uh... 71st were manning the cliffs over Bīnchéng Qū. I was maybe not thinking clear, but I got myself around behind their line. Used lies, flirtation, and bribery to get me to him, and then I… broke countenance.”

Inara laughed at that. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said. “I think all of us know at least one man with that ability.”

He smiled at that. She was right; though it wasn’t spoken on much, it wasn’t uncommon. The type was known among their profession as ‘immovable men.’ “Anyway, he stayed put. I left. Rinse and repeat a few times. Saved his ass on occasion. Then, I get in over my head at Cold Mountain. It’s a bloodbath. Jake can’t even hear me. Turns out his hearing got blown by an audiobomb, which of course, is claimed to not be a thing. And all I can think is ‘I’m not even supposed to be here.’ So… I was maybe not thinking clear, but soon after it was done, I had myself enlisted, with Jake as my corporal.”

He continued on, “Then there was Sturgess. It was about as bad as Serenity Valley. Santorelli… our sergeant… he, uh, he made a bad call. There were… there were landmines. I lost my legs. He lost himself. Jake carried three of us out while four other survivors just ran for it. Can’t hold it against them. Everyone else went with Santorelli. Jake found the 57th, and Reynolds made sure we found medical, got Jake back out on the line.”

Inara raised up to look him in the eye. “Reynolds?” she repeated, keeping her voice carefully even.

Marco nodded. “Yeah, um, the sergeant for the 57th,” he explained. “He had an unnatural talent for living, so it just became the thing that if you lived and your sergeant didn’t, you went to Reynolds. At Serenity Valley, by the time of the ceasefire, he had a couple thousand. Most of them died waiting for the boats to come in, though.”

Inara lay back on the bed with a huff, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Sorry about the war stories,” Marco murmured.

“No,” she said. “I asked.” She turned back to him and stroked his back. When she’d inspected him earlier, despite the fact that it had largely been for show, she’d seen the dots and dashes across his skin of slightly discolored skin. Expensive doctors had done a good job of masking the scars, but not a perfect one. In the bed, though, looking him over more casually in dimmer lighting, there wasn’t even a hint that he’d ever seen war. If he'd still had his prostheses on, then no one would ever have to know but him. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Marco shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled. “I don’t really… talk about it. Much.”

Inara smirked. “That’s quite the revelation,” she teased, and she knew that he was rolling his eyes at her. She laid a small kiss against his spine before curling up against him again. “You speak differently when you speak of war,” she said. “More like a soldier than a companion. Do you find these identities in conflict?”

Marco shook his head. “Not really. Everyone knew what I was, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. It’s just hard to be proper. War… War is an immovable man. More than immovable. He moves _you_. And there’s nothing you can do, swept away by will or against. You just cling to Him and wait for the journey to end.”

“And what’s it like when it ends?” she asked.

“I’ll let you know when I find out.” He pulled away from her slightly, then turned to her. “Let’s not speak of ex-lovers,” he said with a bitter humor to his smirk, and she couldn’t help but smile. Because there it was. There was the Real Marco that they’d been looking for.

But she had a promise to keep. “Alright,” she said. She sat up and looked down at him. “Do you want to move forward?”

Marco glanced to the table and swallowed nervously. “It’s just a cherry…” he muttered.

She decided it was best not to comment. She stepped off the bed and went to the table, picking up the small fruit. She then returned to the bed, sat on the edge, and held it out to him. He started to reach out but then dropped his hand. He swallowed nervously. “You don’t really have to--"

“You can ask me to stop at any time,” she reminded him. “If you are feeling overwhelmed, I will stop.”

Marco said nothing but looked away.

She held out the cherry. “¿Eres pollo?” she teased.

Marco snorted. “That’s so literal,” he laughed. “At least it wasn’t as badly pronounced as your Mandarin.”

“What?” Inara demanded. “I am _fluent_ in Mandarin.”

“You really are not.”

Inara made a noise of disgust and shoved the cherry at him. “Just eat your gorram fruit.”

Marco feigned shock. “Inara!” he gasped. “Are you breaking countenance?”

She rolled her eyes. “Speaking of immoveable men…”

“You know, I’ve totally eaten in front of people before,” Marco said, determinedly looking at her instead of the cherry.

“Really?” she said. Tauntingly, she put the cherry straight in front of his face. “When?”

“... The Shou-zhong Campaign,” Marco mumbled.

“I’m guessing that was a military campaign?” Inara asked patiently, and Marco had to nod in agreement. “Which means it was over seven years ago?”

“... Possibly.”

“You’re skinny,” she repeated.

“You’re not my doctor,” he countered.

“You said yourself that it’s _just_ a cherry,” she reminded him.

“It’s just…” Marco couldn’t think of what it was. Ridiculous was what it was. She was right; there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to eat it. But the very thought made his stomach squirm.

Inara sighed and stepped away. “Alright,” she said. “If you don’t think you can--"

“Give me that gorram fruit,” Marco growled.

With a smirk, she turned back to him and handed it over. He eyed it for a second, then took it. He continued eying it with pure contempt.

And then he bit.

Tart-sweet juice gushed over his lips, and he gagged, barely able to swallow it down. He felt like he’d just swallowed vomit. “I love cherries,” he suddenly realized. He looked up at her. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Inara shook her head and leaned forward to brush his cheek. “You’re just sick,” she said. “I just needed you to see it.” She looked around, found the handle to pull the waste bin out. She took the rest of the cherry from Marco and threw it away. Then, she sat on the bed with him. “You should at least work on it yourself, now that you see the issue. I’d prefer you saw someone about it. If you’re willing, I can talk to the Guild on your behalf.”

Marco sighed and laid back on the bed. “Can I think about it?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. She climbed up over him and arched down dramatically to place a small kiss on the tip of his nose, making him laugh.

“I just realized something,” Marco said, grinning up at her. “You just got me to pop a cherry. We popped my food cherry.”

“Ni gei wo dun!”

Marco winced. “Please stop saying Chinese words,” he teased.

She hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Bi zui!”

“ _Bì zuǐ_ ,” he repeated pointedly, with the correct pronunciation.

“That’s what I said!” Inara insisted.

“You know, Jake can recommend a good hearing specialist…”

Inara grabbed his hair and pushed his head as much back against the bed as the mattress would allow. He tried not to grin. He really did. “You seem to be having a problem with that nasty pride of yours again,” she sneered.

\-- --

As the clock approached the end of the contract period, Inara finally removed herself from the bed, where Marco had fallen asleep coiled up against her. He groaned and turned over and valiantly fought the knowledge that he needed to wake up.

The next part was necessary only for the hired companion, not the client, but seeing as how Marco _was_ a companion, Inara considered it a good idea. Besides, he probably needed it after the full day they’d had. She went back to the cabinet that she had gotten the rubber plugs from and removed a simple bronze wash bowl and sponge. She glanced over the few bottles of oil also on the shelf, chose one, and set it aside. She pulled the sink out from the wall and filled the bowl, then walked over to the bed. “Unless you want a wet bed, I suggest you get up,” she said.

“I think you’ve made the bed plenty wet,” he murmured into his pillow.

Inara smirked. “Your filthy mind hasn’t changed one bit,” she teased. “Come on, I want to worship.”

He turned over again to look at her, squinting in confusion. “We don’t do that for _clients_.”

“I think this is a special case,” she explained patiently. “Are you against it?”

He considered for a moment, then pushed himself up. “I, uh, suppose not. But… uh…”

“Of course I’ll help you down,” she said. She put the bowl on the floor and the sponge next to it. She went to the bed, where she could see that Marco was nervously staring down at the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed tightly. She hesitated for a moment, considering him. “Marco… when you said that you took your legs off to bathe… I assumed that meant worship as well.”

Marco did not look up from the floor. “I, uh… I haven’t been worshiping…” he mumbled.

“For how long?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t notice at first. At the start, I just… didn’t have the mental energy to do more than bathe. Then, one day, I just suddenly realized it wasn’t something I did anymore. That… That was a while ago.”

For the first time, his self-despair actually swelled grief within her. She reached out and stroked his cheek like a loving mother to a despondent child. “Marco, you are a temple to love and compassion,” she reminded him, “and you deserve reverence.”

“Kind of a shitty temple,” he joked with a bitter tone.

She tilted his chin up so that he was forced to look upon her sincerity. “I see only beauty here,” she told him. “Leave a temple uncleansed. Fill it with bullet holes and debris of war. Let it crumble under apathetic abuse. It will still be beautiful. It can still be worshiped. And it is still deserving of reverence.” She kissed him before he could argue with her, leaned forward, and slid her hands under his thighs. Understanding her purpose, he wrapped his arms tightly around her neck and allowed her to pick him up, burying his face in her shoulder. His breath was ragged against her skin, but it only took a moment to lift him and place him on the floor in front of the bowl. Once there, he leaned forward and took deep swallowing breaths, trying to keep the panic down.

She gave him a moment to calm as much as he would, then dabbed the sponge into the water, wrung it slightly, then lifted it to his brow, wiping away the sweat. “You _are_ beautiful,” she reminded him. She wiped his nose, his cheeks. “Your love is a light upon the world.” She washed along his jaw and down his neck. “You are, by nature, divine.”

Marco’s breathing began to ease, and she moved on to his shoulders. “I worship at the temple of my flesh,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. His fingers lighted upon her hand as she began to wash his chest, following her movements. “I am reverent, and I am revered. I am the priest, the graven image, and the divine being. My love is a light upon the world and a blessing to the company I choose…”

\-- --

Back at her rooms, Inara opened her source box and accessed the message server.

> Dear Mal,
> 
> I know it’s been some time since we’ve last spoken, and I do remember that it was not an amicable conversation. However, I hold no resentment against you, and I’d like to think that I know you well enough to be correct in my estimation that you do not truly hold any against me.
> 
> I write you now because I met today an associate of yours, Marco Guerra, and he spoke briefly of you. I thought you would like to know of the kindness of his words.
> 
> I hope this finds you well,
> 
> Inara Serra

She leaned back and read over the words carefully.

Then, she deleted the message.

It was so much easier, she reflected, to do for others than for yourself.

\-- --

Marco stopped on the catwalk above the cargo hold. “So that explains the smell,” he grumbled, peering down with a disapproving glare.

“Hm?” Cassie asked, looking up at him.

“The cows,” he said flatly.

Cassie looked around quizzically at the mass of cattle around her. “Cows?” she repeated. “I think you need your eyes checked, Marco. How would we find cows on a derelict? No, all we have down here is a perfectly legal salvage of protein cubes, engine parts, and furnishings.”

“My mistake,” Marco said, rolling his eyes. “Where’s our captain?”

“Kitchen or bridge, I think,” Cassie said.

“Gracias,” Marco muttered before turning to head into the bow of the ship. He found Jake talking sleepily with Tobias and Rachel at the table over a breakfast of protein cubes. “Buenos días, mi capitán intrépido,” Marco chirped playfully.

“Morning,” Jake grunted, prodding grumpily at a panel in front of him. “Tobias, this route is going to take near a month.”

“Anything else runs risk of Alliance interception,” he said. “And you _know_ they always pull over you and Marco.”

“How was your meeting at the training house?” asked Rachel. She didn’t really care, she just didn’t want to argue about routes anymore.

“Boring,” Marco lied. He moved toward the cabinets, hoping to find fresh water. If no one had gotten any yet, he’d probably have to run back into the city quickly before they took off.

“We could swing around Beylix,” Jake suggested.

“Sure,” said Tobias, “if you want to run afoul of locals, reavers, _and_ the currently squatting Alliance patrol.”

“Out as far as Beylix?” Jake said, disbelieving.

“There’s been more and more patrols on the rim lately,” Rachel said. “Looking for runners from the core.”

“Do you have any idea how much mǐ tián gòng is gonna pile up in three days?” Jake demanded angrily.

Marco found the water and turned back to them, leaning on the counter, wanting to know what course they finally settled on. “Do you have any idea how extremely illegal our contents are?” Tobias countered. “Live cattle _and_ whatever dōngxi Tom is.” Jake gave him a sharp look at that.

As the three began arguing, Marco looked around for a glass to pour himself some water, when he noticed that a couple protein cubes were still sitting out from breakfast. He glanced at the table, all three fully absorbed in their fruitless bickering. With determination, he pinched a small corner off one cube and put it in his mouth. With them distracted, it didn’t count, not really.

But the small victory made him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tā māde! = "His mother!" (Mandarin) A general swear, used here as an expression of disbelief.  
> ¿Eres pollo? = "Are you chicken?" (Spanish) Here, Inara is being too literal in translating. A better phrase might be "¿Eres una gallina?" ("Are you a hen?")  
> Ni gei wo dun! = "Get out of my sight!" (Mandarin)  
> Bi zui! = "Shut up!" (Mandarin)  
> Buenos días, mi capitán intrépido. = "Good morning, Fearless Captain." (Spanish)  
> mǐ tián gòng = shit (Mandarin)  
> dōngxi = object/thing (Mandarin)
> 
> Diacritics have been removed from the phrases that Inara uses as a visual cue that she is not pronouncing the words correctly. However, diacritics are not strictly necessary to Pinyin.


	4. TL;DR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a detailed summary of the previous chapters for people who do not wish to read porn.

**CHAPTER ONE**

On a trip to the Rim, Marco hires Inara Serra to help take him "out of [his] skin," as he feels that he is losing his identity to his masks and roles. The two knew each other in their childhood training house, and she is happy to oblige him.

On the contracted day, Inara meets him at his shuttle. After a brief interview, she informs him that to do what he wants, she will endeavor to remove his pride and then remove his shame, though she warns that nothing she can do in a day will have a lasting effect. Marco jokes that he wouldn't know what to do with himself if the effect was lasting.

To remove is pride, Inara orders him to remove his facial piercings, jewelry, and clothes until he is standing naked before him. She roughly and coldly inspects him to make him feel objectified until it gets a rise out of him. The two joke about how easy it was for her to do this. She then explains that removing his shame will be more complicated, and she produces from her purse a single cherry.

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

Marco is cagey about the cherry. Inara explains that his eating disorder is not a part of Companion identity, and she mentions that she disapproves of the rule of not eating in front of people being taught at all, as Marco is not the first person to turn it into a disorder. She explains that he has learned to associate food with shame and vulgarity, "and eating in public has become as horrifying for you to conceive as defecating in public might be."

However, because she knows it unsettles Marco, she merely puts it on the table, waiting for him to get used to it, and moves on to the second part of her plan. She asks Marco to remove his legs. They kiss, and she begins to ask questions. She explains repeated that she's not trying to take Marco's mind off of his condition, but trying to get him to accept it. She asks him to masturbate, but he's unable to keep focus off his legs long enough to produce the desired effect. He explains that "It’s not just that it’s not pretty. It’s that I just… end. Suddenly. There’s me, and then there’s a bunch of not-me where more of me used to be. It’s the sound of bombs in my brain. It’s the fear that swells up again, being [scared shitless] that I’m about to die for no good reason. It’s knowing the exact expression my dad will make when they mail him my corpse."

To this, Inara kisses his scars and tells him that the amputation is not how he died but how he lived. She then asks him to finger her instead. Since he is being made to see to the needs of someone else instead of himself, it is more difficult for him to lose focus. He succeeds in getting her off, and she asks for penetrative sex, requiring him to change position without the aid of his prosthetics. After he orgasms, she asks for oral sex, requiring him to shift position again. This time, he falls off the bed. The two laugh and agree on taking a break.

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

The two cuddle together, and Inara asks him about the war. Marco talks about Jake, how he was kidnapped at 13, before the war began, when kidnappings had gotten common. He was held for ransom on a rim planet, and instead, his parents sent mercenaries instead. The mercenaries killed the kidnappers and bystanders, and Jake was offended that his parents and the cops didn't care. At 15, he ran away and joined the Alliance. At 19, Marco was working on an Alliance Cruiser when he discovered that Jake was an Independent corporal, and he bribed his way behind the lines to yell at him. Marco continued chasing after him, even saving him, until Jake lost his hearing to an audiobomb at Cold Mountain. Marco officially enlisted with Jake as his corporal, and then lost his legs to a landmine at Sturgess. At Sturgess, they also lost their sergeant and were taken over by Sgt. Reynolds, who helped save them. This happened again in Serenity Valley.

Marco compares a personification of War to an "immovable man," men like Jake and Mal who are so stubborn that they cause Companions to "break countenance." He then says that War is more than an immovable man, it moves you, and all you can do wait for it to end. Inara asks what it is like when it ends, and Marco says he'll let her know. When he jokes that he doesn't wish to "speak of past lovers" (in reference to the Unification War itself), she knows that she has uncovered the Real Marco.

Nevertheless, she moves on to the cherry. Marco both resists eating it and refuses to give up. Eventually, he takes a bite, and is shocked to find himself disgusted, knowing that he normally likes cherries. Inara informs him that he is "sick" and wanted to at least make him aware of that, but offers to speak to the Guild on his behalf. He says he'll think about it. He then makes a horrible pun about the cherry. The two have sex again.

Eventually, they fall asleep together, and Inara wakes him when her time is nearly over, asking him to worship with her, upon which he reveals that he hasn't worshiped in some years. She convinces him to do so, and they participate in a Companion-specific religious bathing ceremony, where the Companion is worshiped and revered.

Marco rejoins _Jian Seng_ , where they believe that he had merely been visiting the Companion Training house that Inara works at. The crew has agreed to smuggle a small heard of cattle, and Jake and Tobias are arguing about the route to take when Marco manages to eat a very small portion of a protein cube without anyone noticing.


End file.
